


25 Days of Outlander-- Tumblr List

by writtenthroughtime



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: 25 Days of Outlander, F/M, tumblr post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:11:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5376491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenthroughtime/pseuds/writtenthroughtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My contribution to the 25 Days of Outlander from Tumblr's Gotham-Ruaidh and Lenny9987</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Favorite Location--Fraser's Ridge

**Author's Note:**

> Jamie and Bree Bonding at Fraser's Ridge

     “Acchh. Try to stress the chhh sound in the back of your throat.” Jamie— No, DA was explaining. I had been picking up on Gaelic faster than he had expected. The joy on his face when I asked for the lessons and the ever growing smile as he teaches me his native tongue makes me want to make it perfect for him.  
     I can tell Da enjoys having the one on one time with me, even if it is still slightly awkward when mamma isn’t around. His eyes, the same startlingly deep blue as my own, hold a wariness that shouldn’t be there. How do I show him that I want to get to know him? That I want to understand more fully what happened to cause him to abandon us? For three days I have been trying to work up the nerve to ask him to tell me his side of the story, perhaps even ask about the older sister I never got to know.  
    “Bree, are ye even listenin’ lass?” I jolted hearing his voice and I could feel the heat of my cheeks starting to flush.  
     “Ah, yes and no, sorry Da.” He made a guttural noise that flowed all to well with the words he had been teaching me.  
     “Ye look like your mother when she’s trying to work out a new potion in that surgery of hers. What’s on your mind, mo chroí?”  
     Looking down at my lap I watched as my left hand tapped an unsteady rhythm against my thigh, “I—I wanted to ask you why you left us? Mamma and I, why did you go fight and send us away?”  
     “Surely your mam has told ye why?”  
     Nodding, “She has, but I want to know your side of the story.”  
     Looking up, I saw him shift uneasily from side to side all while his right hand tapped nervously on his thigh as well— huh, guess I know where that habit comes from now.  
     Clearing his throat a few times he looked me in the eye, “Are ye sure ye want to hear this? It’s not a pleasant story.”  
     “I do. I want to know your story. Maybe we could make this our thing? After studying Gaelic or working together we take the time to tell each other one story from our past.” With the size and brightness of the smile that covered his face it’s no wonder mamma loses speech when she’s with him.  
     “Aye lass, that is something we can do.” Releasing a breath he made himself more comfortable and motioned for me to do the same.  
     “Ye ken the story of how your mam and I set out to change the future and prevent the battle of Culloden?” Seeing me nod he continued, “Weel in Paris, right after we lost your sister, I could tell that what we were not going to win the battle we’d started, Prince Tearloch could no more be swayed than the boulder ye are sitting on. I hoped something we’d done or said would have persuaded him to stop his notion for the crown, but…” he shrugged, “the edict of his intentions came while we were in Lallybroch, finally building a peaceful life together and hoping for another child.”  
     He smiled at me so sincerely and so full of love that I could tell he always wanted me, even though he never got to see me grow, he wanted me. He loved me before he knew of me.  
     “The early battles and campaigning were draining. I knew a price would be on my head if I survived the fight and what Claire had said came true. I needed a plan to get her to safety. I couldna live with myself if something were to happen to her because her name was tied to mine. Showing your mam love has always been an effortless task and that entire dark, starving, dirty splotch on our history I made sure she felt loved and wanted. She was willing to die with me— die for me, if it came to that.”  
     Tears filled his eyes as he further delved into the love he shares with my mother.  
     “One day close to a month before the date Claire had given me for the Battle of Culloden, I counted, counted again, and recounted for good measure the days since your mam’s last courses. She was with bairn. Ye, mo iníon álainn. When the realization that I was going to be a father again I wept. I prayed and thanked God for ye, and I promised I’d do anythin’ I could to keep ye safe and make sure your mam had the child she was meant to have. I couldna let her sacrifice herself when she had a reason to keep going. I kept ye a secret from Claire, watching her when she wasna looking, waiting to see when she’d ken the knowledge herself.  
     Days passed and Culloden was looming over our heads. Still your mam hadna figured out she was carrying ye. Fear for the two of ye weighed on me night and day, Claire thought it was running the regiment and preparing for battle—preparing to die. Aye, dying was part of it, who would take care of ye when I was gone? Where would ye go to have a safe life? Not to Lallybroch, I’d be lucky if my whole family wasna hung for my treason. Nowhere in my Scotland was safe, but there was somewhere safe in Scotland.”  
     “The stones.” My face paled remembering the roar of screams and the searing pain when traveling through them.  
     “Aye, the stones. I could send ye both back to Claire’s future time, back to a place where there isna a war, and a place where a man would be there to take care of ye. Sending Claire back ripped my soul apart and I had no life without her, without the bairn she carried. I went onto that battlefield trying to die. I wanted someone to run me through or put a bullet in my no-longer beating heart, quick and easy.”  
     Da’s face was glistening with the tears he’d shed during his retelling. Both of his hands were clinched tight on his knees, as if they were keeping him from springing up and running from the memory he trudged through.  
     “I sent ye away to live, to have a life I couldna give ye, but I never left ye. I loved ye the moment I ken ye were there and I’ll love ye even after I die.”  
     Not being able to stand it any longer, I jumped up from my spot on the boulder and crashed into his chest, hugging him tight to me.  
     “Is breá liom tú da.” I whispered into his chest while tears of my own pricked my eyes.  
     “I love ye too ,álainn.” Da whispered back hugging me just as fiercely back.  
     “Tomorrow ye will tell me what you thought of your mother coming back to find me and your journey.”  
     I simply nodded against his chest never wanting to let go.


	2. Character Most Missed-- Faith Fraser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with Faith and Murtagh helping their family.  
> TEAR JERKER WARNING  
> Italicized segments are from E.B. White's Charlotte's Webb

     “Unca Murtagh?”  
     “Aye, mo chridhe?”  
     “Da is sad.” Her little face scrunched up in thought and in sadness, “So is mam.”  
    “Aye they are. They’re missin’ ye and each other. Neither more than the other. We Fraser’s love deep and yer mam was born to be a Fraser, attached at the soul with yer da.”  
    “Can we send them a lil’ bit o’ love? I think they need it.”  
     Murtagh looked at the wee lass on his lap, dark curls that match her mother’s wayward mop, crystal blue cat-eyes that remind him of his godson, and a heart as pure as her grandma’s. The thoughtfulness of this bairn never ceased to amaze him.  
    “What do ye want to send them, lass?”  
    “Each other. They should no be alone. My sister needs her da, not the imposter who hurt da.” Her little face grew grim and serious at the mention of Frank Randall, who looked all to like his ancestor.  
     “Yer da is about to go to sleep, how about we help him find yer mam and sister? Let him see them in his dreams.”  
      Nodding vigorously, dark brown curls bouncing, Faith agreed.  
     “Now what about mam? She canna see da when we let him see her though his dreams.”  
    “This time maybe we can help her see. If she canna then we will send him back to her when she sleeps. She always sees him in her dreams wi’ or wi’out our help.”  
    “Ok.”

     In a cave overlooking Lallybroch, Jamie Fraser lay looking up at the stars aching for his family. Tears pricked at his eyes and the ache in his heart grew tighter, as though each passing second away from Claire and the bairn was a subtle tightening vice on his heart.  
     A comforting breeze caressed his face. Imagining it was Claire’s hand Jamie closed his eyes and leaned into the wind, giving in to the exhaustion of his body.  
     Before him stood a scruffy man with a face he would recognize anywhere—Murtagh— holding his hand was a little girl no more than five, curly brown hair, bright blue eyes— his eyes— pale skin with a smattering of freckles crossing her cheeks and nose. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. The little girl, minus the eyes, was the image of what he believed Claire to have looked as a child.  
     “Faith?” His voice cracked when he said the name of the babe he never got to meet.  
     A smile lit up her small face, “Hi da!” Faith exclaimed with a giggle.  
     Jamie closed his eyes and tilted his head up to the sky. He finally had died, he is in heaven with his child, godfather, and somewhere his parents and brothers. Peace was all he felt.  
     “Yer no dead, da. Ye were too sad in the cave all alone. We’re here to help make ye happy!”  
     Reaching out for his daughter Jamie smiled a waterlogged smile, full of happy tears.  
     “Oh álainn, just seein’ yer face has made me verra verra happy.” Faith smiled and released Murtagh’s hand, walking slowly to her father.  
     “Da, mam is sad too. I can take ye to her and my sister, but only while ye sleep. Ye may no remember me, or where yer about to go in the mornin’, but ye will be happier.”  
     Reaching a small hand out Faith didn’t wait long before the warm strength of her father’s hand to engulf hers. Faith smiled and looked to Murtagh, “Unca Murtagh, are ye no coming wi’ us?”  
     Murtagh’s gaze softened but his eyes never left his godson.  
     “No, mo cridhe, I’ll no be coming wi’ ye. Look after yer da, sister and mam for me will ye?”  
     Nodding to her pseudo uncle, Faith tugged on Jamie’s hand and led him toward a glowing door that appeared out of no where.  
     “Come on da, mam and Bree are through here.”  
     The feeling of stepping through cobwebs made his skin crawl as Jamie walked through the glowing door. The door opened into a nursery, Claire reading to a small redheaded child in a chair by the window. Jamie’s knees shook and he nearly lost the ability to stand.  
     “Come on, mam canna see ye from o’re here.”  
    _“…he’s a runt. Tell your Uncle Homer you’ve got a pig you’ll sell for six dollars, and see what he says…”_ He heard Claire say in mock deep voice causing the little girl on her lap to laugh.  
_“It was soon—”_  
     “Claire.” Jamie interrupted her narration. Stopping abruptly, Claire spun around and saw what had to be a ghost. The love of her life was standing not two feet from her, clutching the hand of a child that looked like her.  
     “Mo nighean donn, yer here. Ye are alright!”  
     Tears streamed down Claire’s face at once.  
     “Mamma,” the little red head said patting her mother’s face, “finish stowy please. Mamma?”  
     The little girl looked to where her mother was staring and her little face lit up with joy.  
     “FAITH!!” The red head flew off her mother’s lap and into her sister’s embrace.  
     “Hi Bree! I brought da to see ye, just like I promised.”  
     Bree looked up at the tall, funnily dressed man before her.  
    “You have the same color hair as me! Mamma look! He looks like me!”  
     If Claire wasn’t already sitting down she would have fallen to the ground. Her family was there, together. How? How were they with Bree and herself?  
     “Mam, I’ve missed ye!” Faith squealed as she launched herself onto her mother’s lap.  
     A warmth and solid little body that should not be sat on Claire’s lap causing the memories of first losing Faith flood to the surface. Her hands wrapped around the child and she rocked back and forth clutching her first born angel to her chest.  
     “I never stopped loving you.” Claire whispered, not only to Jamie, but to Faith as well.  
     Jamie smiled and picked up Bree.  
     “I know mo nighean donn. I know. I have never stopped lovin’ ye either. I dinna want to wake up and lose this moment.”  
     “I don’t either.”  
     Jamie walked over to Claire and Faith and sat down next to them on the floor resting his head on Claire’s knee.  
     “God! Ye’re real! I miss ye so much, Sorcha. I wish ye were with me.”  
     “Mam is always wi’ ye da! Just like I am, Unca Murtagh, grandda, grandma, Unca Willie and Unca Robbie. We’re alway wi’ ye. Ye may not see us but we are wi’ ye.”  
     Claire could feel the tears running down Jamie’s face as they splashed against her knee. Removing one hand from Faith she gently stroked Jamie’s hair.  
     “Please don’t leave me.”  
     “I canna ever leave ye, Sorcha. Ye have this bonnie lass to hold on to, that is of me.”  
     Moving into a kneel, Jamie reached out and brought Claire’s face to his and reverently kissed her lips.  
     Pulling away Jamie fully broke down and pulled Claire and Faith to the floor and into his arms with Brianna.  
     “If I die tomorrow, I’ll have this moment to look back on and I’ll never forget the completeness of having my entire family wi’ me. I love ye Claire more than anything and I thank you for taking such good care of my daughter— “Brianna.”  
     “What?”  
     “Her name is Brianna Ellen Fraser. Unfortunately right now she has to go by Randall, but please know you are her father and always will be.”  
     “Ye are sayin it wrong, Sassenach. It’s not Brianna, it’s Brrreeahna.” His Scottish burr rolled out Bree’s name in a way only he could. Bree tightened her grip on her father and started to nod off.  
     “Da, it’s time to go.”  
     “No, Faith please. Let us just stay here wi’ yer mam and sister.”  
     Shaking her small head and tears forming in her own eyes, “Ye ken that’s no how it works. When ye fall asleep again I’ll bring ye back to them. Every night if I can I’ll bring ye back to them I will.”  
     Claire’s never ending tears doubled at the prospect of losing her husband and daughter again.  
     “Please, please no. I need you. I can’t do this without you!”  
     “Shhh, shhh. Claire, it’ll be alright. I’ll see you soon, mo nighean donn.” He kissed her forehead, disentangled a slumbering Bree from his chest, handing her back to her mother. Faith was clinging to her mother’s leg and smiling.  
     “I love ye, mam. I’m always watching over ye.”  
     With those parting words, Faith took her father’s hand and pulled him back through the glowing door; leaving Claire and Bree a heap on the floor, Claire crying and clutching Bree with everything in her. Looking back Jamie sighed.  
     “Ye’ll see them again, da.”  
     Jamie woke to the sound of birds and rustling near his cave entrance. Tears stung his eyes when Fergus walked into the mouth of the cave with a loaf of bread and flask of whiskey.

     Murtagh stood beside his long lost love and best friend looking down on the grief stricken boy they each called a son. Faith lay beside them looking down over the clouds. To her right her mother and sister cuddling each other deep in sleep, and to the left her father awake, speaking with her adoptive brother. For her everything was still not right, but she knew in time she would reunite them forever and not just in their dreams.


	3. Favorite Brothel Incident-- Fergus and Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fergus's POV when he finds Claire in Madame Jeanne's Brothel in Voyager.  
> Direct quotes are italicized and from Ch. 26 Whore's Brunch in Voyager

     Walking up the steps of the only place I could think milord would have gone when the printshop was busy, I hoped to find him here. It would be nice if he would take up my offer of finding him a good whore to bed, but no he insists on this celibate torture for the end of his days. Some nights when he doesn’t know I can hear him, I hear his whimpers and shouts for milady.  
     Shaking my head I turn down the hall to milord’s normal room in Madame Jeanne’s. Milady has been gone for twenty years. The pain of it still feels like yesterday not only to milord, but to myself as well. She was the first woman who looked upon me with kindness, not because she wanted me to whore for her, or because she had tolerated me since I was born, but out of her own selflessly pure loving heart. When milord told me she was gone, believed to be dead before the battle even began, I had run away and wept for the loss. My eyes began to sting. I had to stop thinking of milady… of the woman I considered to be a mother.  
     Rasping on the door with my hook so milord knew it was I, I barged in exclaiming to him in French how callous and careless he is for not sending word of where he had gone. For the stupidity he was achieving by not keeping vigilance! A man has been seen prowling around our established trade areas, few loyal patrons mentioned the man had been asking for a Jamie Roy-  
      _“Are you looking for Madame Jeanne?”_ A soft, musical, familiar voice spoke from the corner of the room.  
     Cloaked in only a shift, a ghost stood before me. The ghost of milady. My heart began to race like the fillies at the stables back at Lallybroch and my breathing was short. I felt my eyes grow wide and the blood drain from my face as the ghost of my lady stood there with a quizzical expression. Her cheeks were flushed, hair awry with wisps of white dotted in the curly mass— milady could not be real, but she does not look as the last I saw her.  
The woman who stood before me was no ghost, _“Milady!”_ I exulted throwing myself at her feet, gripping her legs like the child I was before her.  
    _“Let go! I don’t work here. Let go, I say!”_ Milady screamed at me and shoved on my shoulders to break my grasp.  
      _“Milady! Milady!”_ Pleading with her to remember me. Please for the love of the good Lord remember me, _“You have come back!”_ Please see me for the child of your heart that I am! _“A miracle! God has restored you!”_ —To me and to milord, He has restored you.  
     I could not contain my joy! Tears streamed down my face as I smiled up into the face of the mother I longed for these twenty years.  
      _“Fergus!”_ She remembered! Praise to ye Lord, you have brought back my mother.  
    _“Fergus, is that really you? Get up, for God’s sake— let me see you!”_  
     Obliging in standing up, I could not wait for her to get a good look at me. I engulfed her in a hug, steeling all of my love into the embrace. She embraced me back just as strong.  
      _“I thought I was seeing a ghost! It really is you then?”_ I whispered into her hair not ready for this mirage to end.  
      _“Yes it’s me.”_    
     Milord! He will want to know that his wife has come back!  
      _“You have seen milord? He knows you are here?”_    
      _“Yes.”_ Her response took me by surprise.  
      _“Oh! But—but what about—”_ Why would milord leave her in Madame Jeanne’s brothel? Surely he knows how she pines for him, and all the girls in the facility hoping he would grace them with his presence.  
      _“There ye are! What in the name of God are ye doing up here, Fergus?”_ Milord appeared in the doorway and turned to face milady. _“Where are your clothes?— Never mind, I havena the time just now.”_ He turned to me, _“Come along, Fegus, there’s eighteen bankers of brandy in the alleyway, and the excisemen on my heels!”_  
     Quickly turning to look book at the now puzzled expression of milady, I followed milord out of the room and quickly down the stairs.  
     “When did milady return?”  
     “Yesterday. It’s a long story, Fergus, and no’ one I plan on hashing out when we need to be moving.”


	4. Favorite Fight-- Jamie to the Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Spoilers Drums of Autumn and A Breath of Snow and Ashes… you’ve been warned!Also slight trigger warning for violence… this one gets a little—dark)
> 
>  
> 
> So I took this meaning favorite physical fight… was I supposed to do verbal?? My favorite verbal fight has to be the matchup between Bree and Laoghaire in Drums of Autumn. It’s not really a “fight” it’s more Bree lays a smack down on Laoghaire, putting the wannabe in her place and laying claim to her family as she rightfully should. I love it, I don’t know why or how to explain it, but when Brianna slams those pearls on the table to prove who she is, as if looking at her didn’t already prove enough, then snatching them out of Laoghaire’s reach. Priceless… is it bad I really really wanted Bree to punch Laoghaire in the face?  
> For my favorite physical fight, which was how I initially interpreted this prompt is from A Breath of Snow and Ashes. Some of you might hate me from dragging this particular scene up, but to me it shows the courage of Claire and blinding love Jamie, Fergus, Ian, Roger, and the men of Fraser’s Ridge have for their Lady.  
> All Italicized quotes are direct from A Breath of Snow and Ashes: Chapter 28 Curses

     Panic, pure unadulterated panic consumed me. Claire had been missing since the middle of the afternoon yesterday.I was in a rage, the moment the men who took her and attacked Marsali are found, death will be something they wish for.  
     Finding her hair so low in a bush gave me the hope that maybe she would continue to leave tracks easily spotted, but my hopes were not high. Ian silently slithered through the woods ahead of us, scouting for any sign of where a band of rogues could travel swiftly.  
     Night had fallen and still no sign of Ian. Roger and Fergus were pacing next to the spot where we last found traces of what might be Claire. Pride overwhelmed me when they decided to help on my plight to rescue my wife.  
     “Uncle,” Ian’s low steady voice sounded out from the trees, “I’ve found Auntie Claire, there are at least ten men in the group, one is badly injured. Auntie Claire…” his voice started to shake in rage, “Auntie Claire is bound to a tree with a noose around her neck. I dinna stay long but I heard several o’ the men speakin’ of how they wanted to have a go at her.”  
     “We move. Now.” My voice was ice and steel, kill was all that my instincts were telling me. Kill the bastards who dared lay a hand on, mo nighean donn. If I let myself think of what all she has fought through and most likely gone through tonight, I would lay here and weep with grief. Time of that later, in private, away from any prying eyes, for now— vengeance.  
     Ian led us through the woods faster than we should have been able to move. All of us here wanted nothing more than to find the bastards and kill them. The pulse of anger, anticipation, and the need for blood was thrumming like a heartbeat amongst us all.  
     Without even being told, Roger began a war song on the bodhran, our Heiland blood racing and singing with it— death to those who harm what is ours.  
      _“Indians!”_ I heard one of the corpses cry. Kinney Lindsay began his menacing beat weaving into the trees opposite of Roger, finally Arch Bug began his timeless tune clashing and melding with the beats of Roger and Kinney. The three of them seamlessly weaving closer then back in a triangle of fear inducing chaos.  
     I could hear the camp, the vile excuses for men shrieking in fear, running about trying to detect even a glimpse of the enemy afoot. The smell of panic, fear and smoke engulfed my senses and I prowled ever closer to my herd of prey. Gunshots sounded into nothing, shooting without knowing, experience in a hunt sorely and glaringly lacking.  
     Roger got the men into position, gave the final beat and let silence fall.  
_“There they are! I see ‘em!”_ Confusion reigned as the prey vainly wasted their gunpowder.  
     One more battle to be fought and to be won— I released a war cry that echoed in my soul. The anger, the hate, the longing hurt, and fear for Claire embedded in it’s sound.  
     The battle had begun. War cries from my men tore through the air as we tore through the prey. Finding Claire was my first priority, I’ll deal with everything else later. A man had his hand around her delicate arm, forcing her up without fully releasing the rope around her neck. If it left a single mark, I would— my thoughts were interrupted by the sight of him being taken down, by none other than my strong, brave sassenach. The fight continued and I could bare to stand and gape in astonishment as Claire started to find her way on the losing side.  
      _“Come on, damn you!”_ I heard the corpse scream at my wife before he repeatedly punched her head while sitting on top of her.  
     All I could see was red. Grabbing the insolent fool by the neck, I lifted him off my wife. Legs flailing madly trying to subdue me—“haha!” that sound, that melodious giggle. Claire. Looking at the already swelling face of my beloved I would not grant this man the death he deserves. Pulling the man close I whispered, “Take a good look at what ye’ve done to my wife and remember where ye are going, rapists and murderers are not looked upon kindly,” then snapped his neck.  
     Throwing aside the rubbish I allowed the haze to clear slightly. Claire needed me.  
      _“You are alive, you are whole, mo nighean donn.”_ I realized I spoke in Gaelic when Claire did not immediately respond. My heads were flying over every torn shred of fabric, every dirt blotch, could be blood area, and bruise that covered my love from head to foot. She could not quite hold her hands up to me, instead hitting me with a muffled thump with one solid mass and I saw they were still bound, quickly releasing her precious hands.  
      _“I’m alright.”_  
     Unable to form what needed to be said I lightly touched her cheek before joining the rest in the fight.  
     Most of the vagabonds had been rounded up by the time I joined them. Nodding, I walk back to Claire as Arch Bug offered her his dirk.  
_“There are some still alive. Will ye have your vengeance now upon them, a bana-mhaighistear?”_  
      Before her perfect, pure hands could circle the hilt, I grabbed.  
      _“There is an oath upon her, she may not kill, save it is for mercy or her life. It is myself who kills for her.”_  
_“And I.”_ Ian’s deadly calm voice echoed.  
     The horror and concern etched on Fergus’s face as he gazed upon his mother made my own heart clinch, “Madame, Milady.” the sadness pouring through each syllable as he spoke.  
     I had to end this now, _“Which of them? How many?”_  
      _“I don’t know,”_ was all I needed to hear when her broken voice cracked out, _“They— it was dark.”_  
     My grip on Claire tightened, I canna lose her.  
      _“Kill them all.”_


	5. Favorite Uh Oh Moment -- Jamie, Ian and Bree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment when Bree is drawing Roger’s likeness and Jamie and Ian have to reveal what they’ve done.
> 
> All italicized quotes are direct quotes from DoA Ch. 50.

     The fight we had earlier was over a matter she should take more serious! Doesna she want the bairn to have a name? A proper home? A family? What can a woman do by herself without a husband to protect her and the bairn?  
     Sighing, I had to let it go she’s no’ only got my looks but my stubbornness as well. Lord help whoever she does end up married to if we ne’er find this Roger Wakefield.  
     I canna stand to see her face so forlorn, it grips at my heartstrings and fills me with the most dreadful feeling. My child is in pain and there is nothing I can do to help her… maybe there is.  
     Looking over at Claire, at her bonnie face— if I had lost her back before the war, not knowing where she’d disappeared to I wouldna stop for anything to find her again. This is what I would have done to find her, to find anyone truly lost, and I’ll do that for my Brianna.  
     Crossing the room I grabbed the quill jar and inkhorn and set them down with excitement,  
    _“Here’s a thought, let us draw up a broadsheet, here, and I will take it to Gillette in Wilmington. He can print it up, and Ian and the Lindsey lads will take the copies up and down the coast from Charleston to Jamestown. It may be that someone’s not kent Wakefield, not hearing his name, but they’ll maybe know him by his looks.”_  
     Prepping the ink I hoped this would take the forlorn look off her handsome face and bring a smile back to it.  
      _“Now, then, lass, how is this man of yours to look at?”_  
     The spark of life in her eyes and in the way she now sat, with attention, focus, dare I say, excitement.  
      _“Tall, nearly as tall as you, Da. People would notice; they always look at you. He has black hair, and green eyes— bright green; it’s one of the first things you notice about him, isn’t it Mama?”_  
     A pit formed in my stomach. Nearly tall as I, black hair and piercing green eyes, that fellow Roger MacKenzie fits this description. Dear God in Heaven, please let that man no’ be the one my daughter is desperately seeking.  
     Claire was speaking but I wasna hearing a word of it; the next thing I ken Bree has the quill and paper from me with a smile so bright it filled my heart seeing it.  
 _“Can the printer work from an ink sketch?”_  
     Printer? Work from— _“Oh— aye, I expect so. It’s no great matter to make a woodblock, if the lines are clear.”_  
     The words coming from my mouth were no coming from me; myself being transfixed on the face coming to life on the paper before me. The pit in my stomach became hollow and I felt everything sink into it, my heart, my lungs, my blood.  
     What have I done?  
      _“What on earth is the matter?”_ Claire demanded of me.  
 _“Oh… nothing.”_  
 _“Like hell it is!”_  
     Claire’s caring hands were upon me, checking for her wee beastie germs, or whatever it is she might think gave me this pallor. She doesna realize I did this wi’ Ian… we— oh God, we banished Bree’s man.  
      _“Mr. Wakefield, has he by any chance… another name?”_ Please say no, please by all that I care for say no, mo nighean.  
      _“Yes.”_ Came from both of the women in my life. Dread iced my veins.  
 _“—adopted. MacKenzie was his family name. Why? You haven’t heard of a Roger MacKenzie have you?”_  
     I felt all the blood left in my face drain to the fathomless pit in my innards.  
      _“What is it? Have you seen him? Where?”_  
 _“Aye, we have. On the mountain.”_  
     Bree’s face changed from shock, to hopefulness and elation in a blink of an eye. _“What—here on this mountain? Where is he? What happened?”_  
      _“Well,”_ Ian had a tone that reminded me of his father before he was about to say something that both of us would regret later. _“He did say as he’d taken your maidenheid, after all.”_  
 _“He WHAT?”_  
 _“Well, your Da asked him, just to be sure, and he admitted that he’d—”_  
     Gone was the excited happy face when my darling daughter rounded upon me.  
 _“You what?”_  
      Stay composed, Fraser. _“Aye, well. It— was a mistake.”_  
      _“You bet it was! What in the name of— what have you done?”_ Preparing myself for what was sure to be an unpleasant end to this conversation I began, _“the wee lassie, Lizzie. She told me that ye were with child, and that the man who’d got it on ye was a wicked brute called MacKenzie. Ye did say to me that ye’d been violated, did ye no?”_  
     Her flinch said it all, she had been violated, but no by MacKenzie.  
    _“So, then. Ian and the lassie were at the mill, when MacKenzie came askin’ for ye. They rode to fetch me, and Ian and I met him in the clearing just above the green spring.”_  
     In a voice weak, and full of anguish Bree asked, _“What did you do to him? What?”_  
      _“It was a fair fight. I wanted to shoot him on sight, but Uncle Jamie said no, he meant to have his hands on the—the man_.” Ian, speaking like a Fraser, and going to get us a hiding like a Fraser as well. Did he no have enough sense to stay quiet?  
 _“You hit him?”_  
 _“Aye, I did! For God’s sake, woman, what would ye have me do to the man who’d use ye that way? It was you wanting to do murder, aye?”_ I couldna take it anymore. I didna do anything any father wouldna do for his bairns.  
     Claire managed to put a stopper in Ian’s wayward mouth and Brianna began to mutter, a disjointed sentence that I couldna figure out. The red slowly creeped up Bree’s neck and face, flushing her skin with the rage she concealed.  
      _“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM?”_ Her fuse was lit and wouldna die out any time soon. How do I tell her that I as good as killed him? Ian’s face held the same contemplative, dread filled look.  
     Claire’s soft, soothing touch calmed some of my fears, with her everything will work out. _“Jamie—did you kill him.”_  
 _“Ah… no. I gave him to the Iroquois.”_


	6. Favorite Mind-blowing Moment-- Black Jack is NOT Frank's Direct Ancestor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR DRAGONFLY IN AMBER.
> 
> For my favorite mind-blowing moment I wanted to go with something I hoped no one else would go for, the moment Claire and Jamie realize Black Jack Randall is NOT Frank’s six-times great grandfather but his uncle! Dun Dun DUN! If we would have known this before, especially Claire, then Faith may still be there and Jamie would have killed him in that fight in Paris without Claire rushing after him and thus having the stress induced early labor. Instead BJR lives to see another day at least until Culloden, and marrying Miss Mary Hawkins, at his brothers wishes. 
> 
> All italicized quotes are direct from Dragonfly in Amber Chapter 45 Damn All Randalls

      The past few hours have given me no but a headache. Witnessing a concealed marriage out of obligation to Mary Hawkins was no how I pictured this day to go; especially with that marriage involving the devil himself. Claire’s precious Frank will be born even with all that I’ve done to try and prevent the mess.  
     Scoffing I leaned against the window sill wishing I would have sliced more than Randall’s bullocks off back in Paris. Frank may have been born still, but Black Jack would no longer be breathin’ the air and sullying everything around him.  
     Why couldna our lives have been simple? From the day we met it has been a struggle to just be; be together. be safe, be carefree. I wouldna fault Claire if she ever decided being wi’ me was too much of a burden, what wi’ the war; my existence would mean naught if she were gone, but if I had to let her leave for safety…..  
     The door opened— breaking all numbing thoughts of a world wi’out my Sassenach— revealing my reason for being exhausted. I could no take it with her being so far from me. Engulfing my Sassenach in my arms and feeling her meld into me, I lifted her into my arms bringing her to the window seat where she might relax.  
    _“Have a bit of a drink, Sassenach. Ye look all in, and no wonder.”_ Handing her the flask of brandy from the table.  
    _“It wasn’t long, poor chap. It was as though he was only waiting to see her safely taken care of. I sent word to her aunt’s house; the aunt and two cousins came to fetch her. They’ll take care of… him.”_  
     Watching her grimace as the alcohol burned and warmed her up I wanted to do something but couldna think of how to help.  
  _“Well, at least we know Frank is safe, after all.”_ She coyly smiled which brought back the earlier feelings of hate.  
      _“Damn Frank! Damn all Randalls!”_ I growled at her my irritation of her need to keep that man alive coming to the surface. “ _Damn Jack Randall, and damn Mary Hawkins Randall, and damn Alex Randall— er, God rest his soul, I mean.”_ I shouldna have spoken ill of the dead even if it was his fault that Frank were to have the lineage to be born. Crossing myself I sent up a prayer of forgiveness for the thoughtlessness of my tongue.  
      _“I thought you didn’t begrudge—“_  
     I sent Claire a glare that would have made man cower, but no her she held her ground. “I lied.”  
     Grabbing her and shaking her slightly I said what was aching at my heart, the love she still had for Frank eating away at me, _“And damn you, too, Claire Randall Fraser, while I’m at it! Dmn right I begrudge! I grudge every memory of yours that doesna hold me, and every tear ye’ve shed for another, and every second you’ve spent in another man’s bed! Damn you!”_ Grabbing her forcefully I kissed her with all the dominance and fury in me.  
      _“You’re mine, damn ye, Claire Fraser! Mine , and I wilna share ye, with a man or a memory, or anything whatever, so long as we both shall live. You’ll no mention the man’s name to me again. D’ye hear me?”_ Kissing her again just as fiercely, I shook her shoulders again. Ye canna be thinking of a ghost, Claire. I am yer husband and no other.  
      _“Yes, if you’d… stop… shaking me, I might…answer you.”_  
     Feeling as thought I’d just been caught nicking food from the pantry, I released Claire slowly.  
      _“I’m sorry, Sassenach. It’s only… God, why did ye… well, aye, I see why… but did you have to—”_ I felt a fool, no matter what she said the regret of no killing Black Jack will haunt me until the end of my days.  
    _“Yes, I had to. But it’s over now.”_  
     Aye, over. If only I felt it were so.


	7. Favorite Time Travel Moment-- Claire's First Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire's first journey through the stones.

_Oh daughter of mine, you should not have come, you should not be here. For now, since you have come, you will no longer be whom you believe to be, great pain and love await you my darling. You have seen me, and now you can never escape, never forget. Your children will carry this gift through the ends of time and back again._  
     The billowing breezes carried the message around the dancing druids to the spot where Claire Beauchamp Randall hid, crouched among the thistles and leaves. A shiver of recognition.  
    _A token to drawn you in, a magnetism you can no longer ignore. Your blood holds magic my dear, and we the old of the Fae will guide you to where you belong._  
     Claire Beauchamp Randall left the clearing, but not before noticing a flower—a flower that isn’t really there— that will peak her interest and bring her crawling back. Back to the Fairy Hill, back to the Stones, back to where she belongs.  
 _Back so soon my dear? We knew you couldn’t resist. Your blood sings for you to come to the stones. The call is embedded deep within you and you can never escape it. Child of the Fae your call has been awakened. Had you stayed away on this day of Beltane, we may have spared your suffering. Alas, that is not to be. We may be great in number and mystical at best, but clairvoyance is not our particular task._  
     Ever inquisitive, Claire plucked the fairy flower from the stone to study. Her specimen safely tucked in a handkerchief for closer examination. The ancestors of old whispered and screamed guiding her to her destiny.  
 _Hundreds of us are calling. Thousands of us are screaming. Do you hear us, daughter? Can you feel us?_  
     Growing closer to the cleft stone, Claire felt compelled to touch it and discover the source of the screaming buzz.  
 _That’s it child, touch the portal. We will help you this once to find where you need to go. It will not be a pleasant journey, but the reward will be that much better. Two-hundred and two years you will go, to a land full of danger, mystery and your ultimate fate. Love. Your soul shall be united, but take heed young one, not all are as they seem._  
     Disoriented Claire looked up at the stone, shocked to find herself on the ground. The buzzing still there but not as loud. She had to leave this place. The power continues to ebb and wane like a current at sea.  
  _Go and find your Hielander, my daughter. Go and find your love. Go find your Jamie Fraser._


	8. Favorite Supernatural Moment-- Jem and the Opal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My take on the power within Jem and the eery song he hears from the fire opal.
> 
> All bolded quotes are from Chapter 109 The Voice of Time from The Fiery Cross

     The pretty thing in granny’s hand kept singing. Begging me to hold it, to touch it. _Come to me._ It said over and over. _Child of the Fae come to me. Touch me, ignite my power, oh young one._  
     Tugging on granny’s skirt I had to find out what it was, **“Watsat?”**  
      **“What—oh! It’s a rock, sweetheart; a pretty rock, see?”** She held out the rock and I had to have it.  
      _The time has come to play, little one. Can you feel my magic? I can show you to the other side; just listen and wait for you are a child of the Fae, just like your mother, your father, and your grandmother too. They all feel it calling, can you? What do you feel, little one, I beg of you what do you feel?_  
     Rolling the rock from side to side, it was bright like gandda’s hair and the sparks of the fire. Reds, pinks, oranges, yellows and white glittering around while the ongoing song thrummed from within.  
      **“Hot,”** that’s what I feel singing stone, **“Mummy, HOT!”** It’s too hot! I have to let go.  
     That’s it child, feel our magic. Will you not come home? Will you not set us free?  
     Mummy grabbed me as a sound not like a song, but screeching hurt my ears. And then sound like daddy and grandda’s gun went off and small little pings that sounded like granny’s bottles tinkled to the ground.  
    **“Holy God,”** Grandda muttered looking to the spot I had been playing with the talking stone. Looking around I didn’t know what was going on. Mummy’s face was pale with wide eyes and her mouth wouldna, close. Daddy had a similar look except he was bleeding! Granny must help daddy. Crying I had to find help, daddy is bleeding and the song willna stop!  
  _You’re a powerful one Jeremiah MacKenzie, we’ll be back for you. You will be able to cross worlds, and feel more than another before you. Two partial Fae parents and endless possibilities of your power. You may appear red, little one, but you glow blue._


	9. Favorite Real Historical Person-- General Charles Lee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS FOR MOBY and DiA
> 
> Actually he’s not my favorite historical person from the books, I quite liked Benedict Arnold. Yes he was a traitor to my country, but in the books DG made him likable! I also enjoyed the times in Paris where we met the Bonnie Prince and King Louis, although I HATE Louis for what he did with Claire to get Jamie out of prison. I was in denial as I glanced over that passage and still I’m adamant it never happened.. Nope. Claire and Louis never had sex, I’m not listening if you try to tell me otherwise. So I’ll count that as a Fan Fiction for him. One scene I though would be slightly humorous and interesting to see was when Jamie resigned to (soon-to-be-traitor) General Charles Lee when Claire gets shot. So for this day’s purpose, General Lee will be my favorite historical person.
> 
> Italicized quote is from Chapter 82 Even People Who Want to Go To Heaven Don’t Want To Die To Get There

     The pale, stricken young messenger stood outside of General Charles Lee’s quarters, terrified to enter. His coat had been in a white knuckled, shaking grip from the medical tents where he found General Fraser to here; his pristine shirt sullied by the mud mixed from the blood of Mrs. Fraser and the message of treason. Sending a quick prayer up, the lad begged the Almighty’s forgiveness and hoped He would spare him from death when he entered the tent.  
     “General Lee, Sir!” The lad cried out.  
     “Ah, Weatherby, come in. Where is General Fraser?” The once peeved look of General Lee’s face became flushed with red and anger set in.  
     “He— General Fraser that is, sir— sent a message as to why he was not coming.”  
     “Not coming! How dare he disobey direct orders! Where is this message boy?” The spittle flying from the General’s mouth did not help ease the lad into wanting to turn and show the message.  
     “Here, sir, on my back.” Turning around head bowed in shame, the messenger exposed the message from General Fraser:

_Sir, I resign my commission. J. Fraser_

 

     “Does he have any idea that we are in a war? What news of this? Why did the General resign? Tell me now, boy if you wish to keep what life is yours!”  
     Squeaking out in a voice that would be more suited for a young lass than a lad of sixteen said, “His wife, sir, Mrs. Fraser the physician; she was shot on the battlefield and he would not leave her side.”  
     Scoffing, General Lee slumped angrily into his chair. Hand on his face, contemplating what to do next. Fraser is now a traitor to the cause, but what to do about it?  
     “Leave, Weatherby. Fetch me General Arnold.”  
     “What of General Fraser, sir?”  
     “Leave him be, he served us well and did not turn coat, he left for his wife. More admirable than some you might say.”  
     The messenger left, confused and ready to be out of the bipolar General’s quarters. What could he possibly want with General Arnold?


	10. Favorite Reunion-- Jamie and Claire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two short Jamie POV reunion stories (because I couldn't pick only one favorite) from Outlander and from Voyager
> 
> All italicized quotes are direct quotes from either Outlander or Voyager by Diana Gabaldon

**Choosing Me**

     Walking away, leaving Claire on the hill with the Faerie stones was the hardest thing that my life has thrown at me. The woman that I love, who holds the other half of my soul ripped away in an instant. No a witch, a time traveler she tried to say, the folks of these parts o’ Hielands would call her an Old One— a wee one, a Fae. For all that she may be from the future or part of a Faerie song, I love her, deep into the roots of my soul, I love her.  
     In the darkness of the cabin whence I first met her— my Sassenach, my Sorcha— the tears flowed freely. Alone, I could allow myself to be swallowed by the force of this grief. She belongs with her— her husband, she belongs in her time; no here where the danger lurks in every corner. Christ, she was tried as a witch! If it were no for those jet beads— I couldna think about it; the thought of her being gone so permanently tears me even further to shreds; at least in the future she’s no dead, I may be dead in her time, but she will live on.  
     Drifting off into unconsciousness, I thought of my Claire and prayed she would be safe.  
Claire. I could feel her soft warmth and the tickle of her curls. Burrowing deeper into the smell and softness of my subconscious’s Claire; I even needed to—  
     Jerking awake, the softness was real. Claire is here! Crashing to the floor, my Claire, whose knees were uncomfortably digging themselves into my abdomen, was here. Not hearing a word of any protests she might say, I had to do what I couldna before she left— I kissed her with all the love I could muster. All my strength and soul poured into her mouth as we connected.  
     Holding her was heaven, if I died now I wouldna complain. _“Why?”_ I murmured into her curls. Feeling her gentle touch was like heaven and being lit on fire all at once. My insides burned with desire, while her touch soothed and calmed every part of me.  
      _“I had to. You don’t know how close it was the hot baths nearly won.”_ She laughed. Her laugh soon turned into tears; tears of joy or anguish I couldna tell, but she chose me, no Frank or the ‘hot baths’ she joked of, me. Feeling the shake of her shoulders as she wept, I held tighter. No longer alone, but together; perhaps her love is just as deep for she chose to come back, when all I wanted was for her to be safe, to be happy.  
     I couldna stop my smile—she chose me.

 

**The Return of the Time Traveling Wife**

     Another day, another malfunctioning section of the press. Clean this, polish that, oil here, replace there— did it ever stop? The pamphlets needed were thankfully finished and stacked ready for delivering later. The ding of the shops door chimed, ah Geordie must be back with the cog needed for this insolent thing to function.  
    _“Is that you, Geordie? Took ye long enough. Did ye get the—”_ Turning around a ghost stood before me. Swallowing hard all I could do was stare at the vision before my eyes. My Sorcha. God, how I have yearned for ye. Why are ye here? Am I deid? Did the infernal contraption of a press send me to the end of my days? I have missed ye more recently, alone above the shop, or in the whorehouse—hearing all the debauchery, wishing you were there to be wanton with me.  
_“It isn’t Geordie,”_ the vision said in voice so musical and light I had to have been dead or dreaming to hear. _“It’s me, Claire”_  
     All I could do was gaze upon her bonnie face; a face I never believed to see again. Boldly, the vision walked to me throwing the flap of the counter out of her way.  
     Concern filled my Sorcha’s face as she studied my aged face, “When did you break your nose?” Of course she would notice an injury, healed and well, but still an injury only her keen physician’s eyes would see. “About three minutes after I last saw ye—Sassenach.”  
     Smiling, this may be the last glimpse I get of her bonnie face. Curls still a mess wi’out her cap, laugh lines crinkling by her eyes. I wasna ready for the vision to disappear as it always does. Her slim hand extended toward my face—touching the line where the butt of a lobster back’s gun struck twenty years ago. White hot lightning seared my veins bringing life back into me was the last thing I remember. “You’re real.”  
     Blackness tinged the edges of my vision to frame the face of my beloved wife, home, how did she—  
_“That bad, is it?”_ She asked stroking my hair. Coming to I realized I was on the floor—when did I get here?  
_“That bad and worse, Sassenach.”_ Feeling the warmth that should no be there, and the smell of my Claire overpowering me.  
     Good, _“God in heaven, you are real!”_  
    _“So are you.”_ She stated flatly. _“I th-thought you were dead.”_ Her voice broke and the tears poured down her cheeks. Pulling her to me so her head rested over my heart, I held her tight letting my own tears fall, reveling in the feel of holding her once again.  
     She came back— My Sassenach found me and returned home.


	11. Favorite Sex Scene-- Strawberry Fields Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie POV  
> The moment when Jamie and Claire find their home on the ridge, filled with strawberries--the emblem of the Fraser clan.  
> Quotes are from Chapter 16 of Drums of Autumn

     Standing in this new land with Claire beside me was a dream, a dream I never imagined could be true. The horrors of last night were naught but a distant memory at the sight of the ridge—a green, fruitful place full of hope and promise. It may no be Scotland but it can be home.  
     Leaning down to kiss Claire, a brushed a tear from her cheek. This is her land and she needed to know—had to know that I will protect her, make her happy, and love her no matter where we are.  
     With a fluid tug, my plaid and belt fell to the earthen floor beneath me, removing the rest of my clothing I smiled at Claire, eager for her.  
 _“There’s no one here. No one but us.”_ I implored to her while stroking her delicate face and offering her a hand. _“In the old days, men would do this, to give fertility to the fields.”_  
      _“I don’t see any fields.”_ She quipped then ever so slowly stripped down to nothing. Dear gracious God, my wife is stunning. How I ever become so lucky as to win her heart, I will have no idea, but pray for thankfulness every night.  
 _“Well, no doubt I shall have to cut down a few trees first, but that can wait, aye?”_ Smiling, I had to touch her. Skin to skin, we fell to the plaid-blanketed ground. _“And what would Eden be without a serpent?”_ My vixen of a wife smirked, fondling the serpent which she controls, causing my mind to scramble and breathing come short. _“And will ye eat wi’ me, then, mo chridhe? Of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil?”_  
     Her ministrations continued, adding in a kiss that, if I were standing, would have brought me to my knees. Kissing back and starting my own form of pleasurable torture on her, I heard a breathy whisper, _“Je suis prest, Monsieur Freseliere.”_  
     Sucking on the buds of her breasts I rumbled into her skin, _“Madam Freseliere, je suis a votre service.”_ The smell of tart fruit being ground with each moment, sent a thrill through my spine and a shuttering breath into Claire’s lips. Among the fruit of our clan, we would rebuild—here on this ridge we would create a new clan, a new life, a new home, and a deeper love.


End file.
